


No One Here to Save

by SailorSol



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Evil Vizier, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Gen, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/pseuds/SailorSol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasmine barely remembers her mother. But she remembers enough to know that her mother would not sit by and let Jafar slither his way into control. So she fights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Here to Save

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katmarajade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/gifts).



> Thanks to H. and A. for beta and encouragement. Title is from Sara Bareilles’ “King of Anything”.

_So you dare tell me who to be_  
 _Who died and made you king of anything?_  
\-- Sara Bareilles, “King of Anything”

* * *

 

Jasmine barely remembers her mother.

She remembers long, dark hair and dark eyes and the lingering scent of myrrh that always seemed to cling to her skin. She remembers the way her father doted on her, the way her mother would laugh at something he did. She remembers gentle hands brushing her hair, soothing her fears, leading her towards the future.

But for all the soft edges and musky scents, Jasmine remembers that her mother was a strong woman. She gave Jasmine the understanding that women weren’t less worthy—of anything—just because they were not a man. She taught Jasmine to stand up for herself. And she taught Jasmine to care for Agrabah like a mother would for a child, with unconditional love and the desire always to see her grow into something more, something better.

She doesn’t remember how her mother actually died. Sickness, her father tells her, when she asks, but she never gets more of an answer than that. She doesn’t remember her father closing himself off from his duties for days on end, nor the way Jafar slowly inserted himself into their lives, taking advantage of her father’s grief.

She has never liked the man; he is vile, and holds no respect for Jasmine. But worse, he shows no respect for her father, the sultan. He looms in the shadows, always watching like a cobra waiting for the right moment to strike. He tightens his coils around her dear father, an unsuspecting desert mouse. Jasmine wishes she could set Rajah on the man, let her tiger tear him to shreds as one predator to another.

But Jasmine holds less and less power in her own home, until she is no more than a prisoner. She tries to remember the lessons her mother taught her, but the memories are as fragile as a shimmering mirage on the sand. She remembers enough to know that her mother would not sit by and let Jafar slither his way into control, that a man who respects no one except himself will never be suited for rule.

So she stands her ground, refuses his advances, and fights in whatever way she can. When the moment comes that Jafar is sucked down into the prison-lamp he made for himself, she grins with a sharp satisfaction. Forever more, he will be chained by the desires of everyone else, and she can’t help but think that it is a punishment worthy of his crimes.

Jasmine barely remembers her mother, but she knows she would have made the woman proud.

* * *

 


End file.
